


Lazy Morning Sex

by the_painless_moustache



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Fluff, I mean, M/M, Married Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Married Sex, Morning Sex, My teacher kink is showing, Not technically I mean Stiles is on top for most of this, Teacher Derek Hale, Top Derek Hale, i guess, there's sweetness in it anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 09:17:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3169541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_painless_moustache/pseuds/the_painless_moustache
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and Stiles don't see each other as often as they'd like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lazy Morning Sex

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have a better title for this and for that I apologize

 Derek can hear the chatter of the slower kids wandering out for the weekend, shouting at each other and ignoring the fact that, yes, the teachers can still hear you. Of course, it’s not like most of the other teachers care, anyway. Derek included.

 It’s late enough after school’s let out though that it’s a bit of a surprise when he’s pulled out of his paper-grading by a tap at his door. He looks up, blinking at the lanky figure there. “Stiles?”

 “Hey, Mr. Hale,” Stiles says, wicked grin coming across his face. “Got a moment?”

 “I’m…grading papers.” Derek says slowly, watching Stiles cross the floor in slow, tantalizing inches. He clears his throat and looks up from where the young man’s fingers are dancing across a student desk. “Is everything okay?”

 “Oh, yeah.” Stiles shrugs, turns a circle in the room and nudges the door closed with his foot. “Peachy.”

 “Stiles,” Derek warns. “What do you think you’re doing?”

 “Just came to see my favorite teacher.” Stiles insists innocently, inching closer to the door. “Is that okay, Mr. Hale?”

 Derek swallows thickly, watches Stiles press the lock on the door knob in, effectively keeping anyone else out. “Stiles, this is _really_ inappropriate.”

 “I haven’t done anything inappropriate.” Stiles says, sauntering back towards him. “Yet.”

 Derek doesn’t get to say anything before Stiles is piled in his lap, knees braced on either side of his hips and hands gripping the back of the chair for balance. He rocks back to compensate for the extra weight automatically, which unfortunately lifts his hips to Stiles and makes everything both better and worse.

 Stiles’ grin is dangerous as he brings his mouth to hover over Derek’s. “What do you say to some extra credit, Mr. Hale?”

 “I—I’m— _Stiles_ , Jesus!” he yelps, rocking his hips up into Stiles’ wandering hand. “We can’t do this!”

 “I’m legal, if you’re worried about it.” Stiles says innocently, only the effect is slightly ruined by the way he’s nibbling on Derek’s ear.

 “I’m not, I’m worried about being caught and _fired_.”

 Stiles laughs low enough that Derek feels it sink into his stomach and force his blood to move a little quicker. “I won’t tell.”

 Derek gives in then, braces one hand on Stiles’ lower back and the other at the back of his neck. With a force he doesn’t often utilize, he hauls Stiles forward and _devours_ his mouth. It’s not a word he’d usually associate with kissing, but he doesn’t have any other word for the way he’s swallowing Stiles’ tongue and groping at his ass.

 Stiles rips away with a gasp and throws his head back so Derek can work on his neck. “Oh, _fuck_ , this is good.” he moans. Derek growls, because he can feel the words vibrating against his tongue. Wants to feel so much more.

 “Gonna fuck me, Mr. Hale?” Stiles breathes, rocking his hips into Derek’s. “Gonna hold me down on this nice big desk of yours and fuck me blind?”

 Derek’s teeth sink in of their own accord, but he doesn’t mind. Stiles doesn’t either, if his little moan and shiver are anything to go by. So he worries the skin between his teeth, sucks until it feels hot and then does it again just a millimeter over.

 “Oh, fuck. You’re going to mark me up, now, huh? Tell everyone what you did? What happened to not getting caught, Mr. Hale?”

 Derek moves and bites on the underside of his other two hickies, snarling into the skin and pressing maybe just a little hard. Stiles gasps, fingers digging into his shoulders and pushing, ever so slightly. He moves back immediately, lifting his head and murmuring apologies against Stiles’ mouth.

 “Fuck me,” Stiles begs in a whisper. “Need you inside me. C’mon…”

 “Don’t have—”

 “Bottom drawer, behind the lesson plans.”

 Derek doesn’t even think to question it, just turns to fumble until he finds the lube and condoms stashed there. He laughs a little, and Stiles makes an inquisitive humming noise into his neck. “Can’t say you weren’t prepared.”

 “Shut up.” Stiles mutters, moving Derek’s shirt aside to bite at his shoulder. “Come on, been waiting all day.”

 Derek moves fast, shoving up and putting Stiles on the edge of the desk. The movement rattles it dangerously though, and Stiles wraps around him quickly, looking at the desk in shock. “Oh god, is it going to fall apart?”

 “Maybe?” Derek admits, holding him up a little. “I’ve never actually had a person on it before.”

 “Fuck. Okay, floor.”

 Derek laughs, pressing his smile into Stiles’ neck. “I am not fucking you on the floor, Stiles, it’s filthy.”

 “I _know_ , that’s the point!”

 “Couldn’t we do this on the desk at home?”

 “When are we ever home and not exhausted?” Stiles snipes.

 Derek raises his head then, smiling softly and tracing Stiles’ frown with his thumb. “Stiles, I miss you, too, okay? But sex in my classroom?”

 “It would’ve been so hot if you’re desk wasn’t like four pieces of metal strapped together with duct tape.”

 Derek kisses him softly. “Christmas break, I will fuck you on the desk at home, I promise.”

 “That’s three months away.”

 “Thanksgiving break, then.”

 “We’ll be at my dad’s or stuffed with so much food I’ll be fat.” Stiles reminds him morosely.

 Derek turns his head, biting at his ear. “I don’t mind that.”

 Stiles sighs into his shoulder. “Derek, I’d have a food baby. I’d be lazy and overstuffed and—”

 “And I could fuck you lazily until you’re even more overstuffed.” Derek murmurs.

 Stiles snorts, reaching up to tangle his fingers in his hair. “God, you absolute _nerd_.”

 “You love me.”

 “I know.” Stiles lifts his head to kiss Derek again briefly. “I guess I should let you get back to grading papers, huh?”

 Derek glances at them, half buried under Stiles’ ass. “They can wait. I’ve got something more important I’d rather be doing.”

 “Yeah, like what?”

 “Like my husband.”

 “You’re flattery has definitely gone downhill since I agreed to marry you.”

 “I don’t have to flatter you, I already can’t get rid of you.”

 Stiles gasps and manages to kick Derek’s knee so he stumbles back a foot. “ _Asshole_. I’m not making you dinner!”

 Derek slides up to him again. “I could eat you out instead.”

 Stiles’ goes a little red, eyes darkening and glancing at Derek’s mouth. “You…could.”

 Derek sits back in his chair, tugging Stiles until he’s standing between his legs. “What do you say to a private study session, then?”

 Stiles’ just laughs and falls back into his lap.

***

 Derek wakes up before Stiles does, and he has to smile because it’s only maybe once a month he gets to see this. Gets to appreciate his slightly parted lips, the bruises bitten into his neck and shoulders, the steady rise and fall of his back as he sleeps. He reaches up to brush some wild hair out of Stiles’ eyes, laughs softly at the half-noise Stiles makes in response. “God, I love you.” he breathes, just needing to say it. It’s not like he doesn’t say it often, but sometimes it still doesn’t feel like enough.

 He kisses Stiles shoulder, the closest bare skin, and then lifts himself to drag his mouth all across his back, until he’s straddling him. Stiles wakes up about the time he climbs on top of him, but he doesn’t say anything, just sighs happily and lets Derek do what he wants.

 Derek drags his palm slowly down his ribs, stopping to cup his hip. “Morning.” he rumbles into Stiles’ neck.

 “Morning.” Stiles sighs back. “This is nice.”

 “Mmhmm.” Derek agrees, mouthing across his husband’s pulse. He rocks his hips a little, even though he’s not really that hard yet. Stiles’ breath catches, though, and Derek loves that sound.

 “Lazy morning sex?” Stiles asks, sounding breathless and a bit bewildered. “What did I do to deserve this?”

 “Nothing.” Derek says, following it up with. “Everything.”

 Stiles rolls underneath him until they’re facing each other, cups his jaw and kisses him raw and open. Derek finds his hands and curls their fingers together, needing the contact more than he’s ever needed anything. There’s something missing, though. Derek hums and pulls back with a small nip to Stiles’ bottom lip. “Where’s your ring?”

 “Bathroom,” Stiles says. “Where I always leave it before bed or crazy ‘we-never-see-each-other’ sex.”

 Derek nods, because he knows this. Knows that Stiles wears it as often as he can, but fears losing it. The fear had prompted Derek to get him a chain, so he can wear it around his neck. “Go get it?”

 “I would, but you’re kind of on top of me.”

 Derek sighs, rolls off with difficulty and watches Stiles stumble his way out of their bed and into the en suite bathroom. It takes him less than a minute to come back and tug it over his head, and the moment it presses to his sternum Derek feels all the tension from weeks of not having this just release. He tugs Stiles into his lap, sitting up to kiss him sleepily. “I love you.”

 “I love you, too.” Stiles murmurs, threading his fingers through Derek’s hair. “I miss you.”

 “God, I know. I know.” Derek sighs, shaking his head.

 “Derek?”

 Derek pulls back an inch to meet Stiles’ eyes, to take in the concern and confusion. “I’m okay,” he promises, leaning forward to kiss the tip of Stiles’ nose. “I’m okay.”

 “You don’t seem okay.” Stiles says, his other hand tugging at his hair to pull him back again. “Babe, you have to talk to me.”

 “There’s nothing to talk about.” Derek insists, running his thumb across Stiles’ hipbones. “I just miss this. Us. You know, we don’t get a lot of time together like this anymore, and I don’t realize how much I need it until we’ve gone weeks without being together.”

 “Der,” Stiles sighs, petting him lovingly. “We’re still okay. Don’t you ever think we aren’t okay. This is what growing up is. We’re just…busy. And we still make time to be together, don’t we? We’re not perfect, I get that. But we’re working on it. We’ll figure out a balance, I promise you.”

 Derek nods and pulls him closer. “I want you to ride me this morning.”

 “I can do that.” Stiles murmurs against his mouth. “Like this?”

 “Yeah.”

 Stiles hums an affirmative and moves back so he can take both Derek and himself in hand. Derek rests his forehead on Stiles’ shoulder and just watches the lazy way he touches them, the small thrusts of his hips into Derek, the slow way they harden against each other.

 “Lube.” Stiles mumbles into his ear, and Derek reaches for it without looking, squeezing some into Stiles’ open palm and watching him rub it warm and then go back to stroking them. It’s so gentle, nothing like when they’d started seeing each other. Derek still remembers their first time, the rush and heat and beer. Derek had been getting his masters, Stiles just a year out of reach for his bachelor’s , and they’d met at some stupid party Derek had been dragged to. They’d rutted against each other in a vacant bathroom, jizzing in their pants and laughing until they both realized they were exhausted and collapsed into the bathtub together. Derek had woken up with a headache knocking at his skull and Stiles’ hair in his mouth.

 But they’d had time to learn. Not just how to get better at sex, but how to get better with each other. Stiles knows now that Derek’s hip is ticklish and it’ll ruin the mood. Knows that he hates being called sweetheart because it reminds him of his psycho ex. Knows that if he twists his hand just right, Derek will rise to the brink of orgasm in minutes.

 He also knows how to take it slow, to coax him into an unhurried sort of arousal. He keeps his hand loose, kisses behind his ear and murmurs how much he loves him, misses him, wants him. He uses his other hand to card his fingers through his hair and across his spine.

 And just like Stiles’ has learned Derek, Derek has learned him. Which is why he keeps pressing soft kisses to the marks he’d left the night before, against Stiles’ slightly elevated pulse. It’s why he lets his fingers spasm into a squeeze on Stiles’ hips when he rocks forward and why he presses his thumbs into the vee of his spread thighs. He can make Stiles’ come in five minutes flat, he knows how now. But he knows how to drag it out, too.

 Stiles catches his ear between his teeth, a gentle tug. “Come back to me.” he whispers, and Derek does, pulling his head back to meet his eyes. Stiles gives him a soft smile. “Good trip?”

 “Yeah,” Derek says quietly.

 Stiles laughs softly, moving his hand away and shifting so he’s just poised to sink onto his cock. “Stay with me, Hale.” Stiles orders quietly. “Don’t want you wandering off when the going gets good.”

 Derek huffs a laugh and kisses him. Stiles uses that as his opportunity to slip onto him. Derek swallows his moan, gives one of his own and rocks up until his thighs meet Stiles’ ass. There’s a long, quiet moment where they sit, just petting each other and enjoying it. Then Stiles starts moving, little rocks that set Derek on fire.

 Stiles laughs again, kissing him. “Sun’s gonna come up while your fucking me, you romantic sap.”

 Derek can just see the hints of it now from the window across the bedroom, on Stiles’ side of the bed because he sometimes has trouble getting to sleep and likes to look out. There’s a warning of brightness just behind the trees, and Derek wants to see it spilled all over Stiles’ skin. He drags his fingers across him, touching every part he’s already memorized but loves all the same. “You love it, don’t pretend you don’t.”

 Stiles hums noncommittally and kisses him.

 He has to stroke Stiles to orgasm like this, but he doesn’t mind. He grabs Stiles’ lube-slick hand and smears it all over his own palm so he can stroke him. Stiles shivers, nods his permission and rocks just a little quicker.

 “I love you, you know.” Derek tells him.

 “I know you do.” Stiles nods, voice going breathless. “And I love you. Every—every part of you, you know? Even the really f-fucked up parts.”

 “Like what?” Derek prompts, dragging his teeth across Stiles’ bottom lip.

 “L-like how—how you can’t keep your back to a door or the way you— _fuck_ , you’re fucking shit as folding clothes, you know? And washing them. Goddamn it, how many times do I have to explain you can’t just—just throw them all—” Stiles cuts himself off with a whimper.

 Derek laughs, quiet but overjoyed. “Guess that means I’ll have to keep you to do my laundry for me.”

 “And you n-never take the mail out when I a-ask you to. I always—always have to do it, because you—you _forget_ , but it’s okay because you know how I like my coffee and—and learned how to make my mom’s apple cake even though you hate apples and who fucking hates apples, Derek, _seriously_?” he says the last bit all in a rush, grinding his teeth together.

 “Keep talking.” Derek encourages, the tell-tale heat at the base of his stomach starting to furl outwards. “Fuck, Stiles, keep talking.”

 “And you asked my dad if you could ask to marry me. No one does that anymore. _Nobody_ , god, but you did, and then you insisted we—we actually have a _wedding_ and not just do it during Scott’s bachelor p-party in Vegas because you wanted everyone to—to be there and you wanted cake and flowers and you were such a _girl_ about it—”

 Derek punctuates this with a bit of a firmer thrust into Stiles. It causes his breath to catch, his voice to peter off a little. Derek just grins smugly.

 “And you’re such an asshole,” Stiles comes back with, head falling into the crook between Derek’s neck and shoulder. “God, whenever we fight you just—you never l-let me finish what I’m saying, you just run away, and I hate it, I do, but I love it b-because—because I know you’ll come back and I’ll be calm and you’ll be calm and we c-can—can work it out. We always work it out. Because I _love you._ God, I love you, I love you so fucking much…”

 “Come on, Stiles,” he breathes. “Come on, wanna feel you come…”

 And he does, slamming his hips down with a stutter and biting into Derek’s shoulder harder than he normally would. Derek squeezes his hips hard and fucks into the tight ring of muscle as Stiles’ spasms until he’s coming himself with a devastated moan and a jolt of exhaustion that sends him backwards onto the mattress.

 Stiles presses small kisses into Derek’s shoulder, moving up his neck and jaw and pausing at his lips. “I love you, you nerd.”

 Derek breathes out a laugh and tugs him forward for a long, languid kiss. “I love you, too, Stiles.”

**Author's Note:**

> It's my [tumblr](http://www.thepainlessmoustache.tumblr.com/) birthday! Also, [prompts](http://thepainlessmoustache.tumblr.com/prompts) are open ;)


End file.
